LoisLane

Tales from the Corner
2002-02-18 03:50:49 (UTC)

Reflections from the roller rink

I saw a stranger in the mirror amidst the swirling calliope
of the modern-day roller rink. Actually, it's the same one I
frequented in my youth, not changed much except the music,
the inline skates, and the proliferation of new snack foods
and drinks. I remember eating 50-cent ice cream sandwiches
there. I remember waiting for songs from Saturday Night Fever
and Grease, and the heart-pumping possibility of holding a
boy's hand to a slow song.

Yesterday I held the hand of my child and caught sight of the
stranger in the mirror. She was dumpy, old, round -- what
happened? The curvaceous, attractive girl I used to be has
had a lying, deceiving mirror attached to her wall at home. I
never thought I looked like I do. I was so sexy once. And I
knew it. This is not me, and I can't believe I've been so
blind.

I began today. Free weights. Crunches. Leg lifts. The
treadmill. Stair stepper. It is all here, right here in my
home. Already I feel stronger. Muscles feel harder.

I fell into disrepair like some crumbling old gutter. I got
pretty close to the gutter and it isn't hard for me to figure
out what got me here.

Drinking. Drinking. Drinking.

The computer.

Fear.

Anxiety.

Brain chemistry.

Winter.

Frustration.

Carbs.

Cindy said today why don't you go jump in the shower with
your husband. I said because it's full sunlight in there. So,
she laughed? We do it all the time! This would have been
something I would have done. Once. Once I was a bedroom vixen
flaunting a sculpted body, experimental, confident. A man
once told me I had the most beautiful body he'd ever seen and
touched, and the softest skin, and the firmest breasts. This
man was my best friend's fiancé. My best friend at the
time...

The thought of being seen in reality is more than I can bear.
Whose body is this? Underneath I can see she is there. The
curves, the form, the skeleton of the physically beautiful
woman. Overtop, there is a twice-zipped belly scar. Stretch
marks. And just too much flesh. My body embarasses me and I
wear it like an uncomfortable costume. I don't know how to
dress it. I am magnetically attracted to trendy clothing, and
I can't wear it. I can't drape it over this stranger's body.
I buy new shirt upon new shirt, but refuse to buy pants.
Pants are expensive. Pants say this is my size. After all,
I'll just be shrinking soon, why should I buy pants I can
only wear a few weeks? But a few weeks later, I am still the
same size. And I continue to play this game with myself.

And how many Mondays have I said "It starts today." And how
many Fridays have I ended disappointed and ashamed of myself.

Today I did more than I usually do. Much more. I feel good.
The sun is shining. I know that is part of it. If the casting
pall of gloom returns, my mood takes a dive and life
confusion proliferates -- what am I supposed to do today
again? How should I go about my day? I don't know.... I
bumble through somehow.

I am dying to strengthen up. Mentally. Physically.
Spiritually. I am literally dying. If I don't strengthen up,
I could die. If I keep up the way I have in the past two
years... it is just amazing I am still alive, that I live a
seemingly normal life, and that I haven't killed anybody else
in the process.

Roller rinks make for strange epiphanies.

Lois




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